Q&A: A Candid Conversation about Sophia Cutino’s Enigmatic Debut Photobook, Diaries of a Wet Bird
INTERVIEW
INTERVIEW
☆ BY Nthatile Mavuso☆
Sophia Cutino’s debut photobook, Diaries of a Wet Bird, is a provocative introspection on youth, memory, and identity. Through over 70 hauntingly beautiful 35mm photographs, Cutino explores the fleeting nature of self, blending feminine portraits, roadside remnants, and anti-religious imagery into a surrealist perspective. The book, published by Sunstroke Press as their inaugural title, marks a monumental first step for the photographer, whose evocative work has already gained recognition from established industry figures Ken Light and DAZED.
In Diaries of a Wet Bird, Cutino invites us into her world—one where youth is both cherished and mourned, and where every image holds the weight of a moment slipping away. Cutino is masterful at translating emotion into imagery, the tensions between nostalgia and detachment, and the influences that have guided her artistic journey. Drawing inspiration from iconic photographers and filmmakers such as Nan Goldin, Agnès Varda, and John Waters, Cutino’s work treads the delicate line between reality and reverie, demanding a second, third, and fourth look.
In this conversation, Cutino speaks candidly about the anxieties of putting such a vulnerable project into the world, the significance of blending black-and-white with color photography, and why she chose to include poetry alongside her visual storytelling.
LUNA: This is your debut photobook, and you’ve mentioned that it explores the intersection of your femininity and self-examination, particularly through the lens of a quarter-life crisis. Can you talk more about that?
CUTINO: In your early 20s, there’s both excitement and fear—you have new freedom, you're discovering yourself and your place in the world, but with endless opportunities also comes endless disappointment. You have no money, and you don’t quite know where you fit yet. That’s what I mean by a quarter-life crisis—trying to make sense of it all. I hope to keep evolving throughout my life, but in your early 20s, it feels like being a baby bird learning to fly—just a little crooked, that’s all.
LUNA: Does the title Diaries of a Wet Bird connect to this idea? It’s such an intriguing name—it immediately caught my attention and made me want to ask you about its meaning. What does it represent to you, and how did you come up with it?
CUTINO: I use a lot of bird imagery in my photos and poetry, but the title actually comes from an old comedy skit called A Wet Bird Never Flies at Night. It’s one of those phrases that sounds profound, like it should have a deep meaning, but in reality, it doesn’t—it’s kind of pointless. That idea reminds me of a Shakespeare quote my dad used to love, which has stuck with me over the years. It’s from Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5:
“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot,
Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
To me, that perfectly captures what my book—and, in some ways, life itself—represents: this constant search for meaning, only to realize that in the end, it might not mean anything at all
LUNA: You're a freelance journalist, poet, photographer, and filmmaker—all creative disciplines that shape how you see and document the world. Can you talk about how these different forms of storytelling intersect in your work and how they come together in Diaries of a Wet Bird?
CUTINO: There are two poems in the book—one at the beginning and one at the end—that I worked on with the team to help encapsulate everything. So my writing is very much a part of this project. In terms of journalism, this book is different from my more traditional reporting—it’s less straightforward, but it’s still a form of documentary. It’s rooted in curiosity, in asking questions, in trying to capture something real. As for filmmaking, I think you can see that influence throughout the book. I love movies—especially artistic, experimental, and sometimes even pretentious films—and that definitely shapes my visual style. The moody black-and-white images, contrasted with dreamy, atmospheric colors, remind me of different films and scenes. There’s also a lot of movement in my photos, a sense of breaking the fourth wall, a confrontation with the camera—techniques often used in filmmaking but translated into still photography. I want the book to feel like peering through a peephole into someone’s world, almost in a voyeuristic way, where each image feels like a fleeting moment suspended in time.
LUNA: I find it fascinating how filmmaking principles can be applied broadly but still mean something different to each artist. Given your deep connection to film, I’m curious—why was it important for your photobook to focus so much on femme-presenting people and femininity?
CUTINO: Femininity is something I still think about, question, and find intriguing. Growing up, I was really into sports, wore baggy clothes, and was more of a tomboy. Even now, despite being more feminine in appearance, I still get comments about it. I went to a Christian school where there were strict expectations about how to act, speak, and dress. I never fit in, and I never liked those rigid norms. I’ve always been drawn to people who challenge traditional gender roles or consciously choose to embrace them. There are so many possibilities beyond the binary that I can’t fully address, but I’ve always looked to my friends and those around me—not for guidance on how to act, but for reassurance that being yourself is okay. Seeing others embrace their identity helped me navigate my own questions.
LUNA: Who are your biggest filmmaking inspirations? These could be photographers, directors, or anyone whose work has influenced you?
CUTINO: I draw inspiration from a variety of mediums. In filmmaking, I love Agnès Varda—plus, we have similar haircuts now! Nan Goldin is a major influence, not just for her documentation of domestic abuse and queer circles in the '80s but also for her activism today.
Other directors I admire include Kirsten Johnson, Chantal Akerman, John Waters, and Jim Jarmusch. I also find inspiration in photographers like Gordon Parks and Michael Northrop, though my work doesn't necessarily resemble theirs. Nan Goldin remains a huge influence, and I adore Patti Smith. I also appreciate Daido Moriyama’s older work and even musicians like Kathleen Hanna from Bikini Kill, whose energy and vision inspire me in different ways
LUNA: One thing I found interesting was your combination of black-and-white and color photos. You touched on this in your press release, especially in relation to your filmmaking influences, but beyond that, I wanted to know—why was this choice personal to you? What made you decide to include both formats, and what purpose does it serve in the storytelling of Diaries of a Wet Bird?
CUTINO: Everyone told me not to do it. My photographer friends, my professors—they all said you shouldn’t mix black-and-white and color photography. And honestly, that made me want to do it even more. It’s a bit unconventional, maybe for good reason, but I liked the idea of pushing against traditional photobook formats, even just slightly. Black-and-white photography is more of my main medium, but I do have color work as well. The way we structured the book was intentional—it starts in black and white, then shifts to color all at once, before returning to black and white. This creates a cyclical effect, where if you flip back to the beginning, the themes continue seamlessly. We wanted to explore this idea of repetition and the cycles of life—not just through images of young femme-presenting people and dead animals, but in the very structure of the book itself. Ultimately, it became a way to reinforce the themes of coming of age, understanding the world, and questioning what actually matters in the end. It started as a bit of a rebellious choice, but through discussions and planning, we realized how much it actually helped communicate what we wanted the book to express.
For me, having both black and white and color in the book represents the idea that we all return to where we started—not just physically, but in a broader sense. Life moves in cycles. There are fleeting yet powerful moments of joy, but in the end, everything returns to the earth, swallowed by the sun.
Buy the book on the Sunstroke Press website
